


Fly The Stars

by tielan



Category: Firefly, Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Chromatic Character, Drama, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-15
Updated: 2011-05-15
Packaged: 2017-10-19 10:11:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/199711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tielan/pseuds/tielan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In another life, another time, Teyla sees the shape of things coming and guides her people through the storm.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fly The Stars

**Author's Note:**

> An SGA fusion with the Firefly universe. Written in December 2007.

\-- **walk the air** \--

Ronon remembered the days after Teyla got the scholarship to the Academy.

Torren was so proud of his daughter he could barely speak. Half the time he looked as though he was about to burst with joy, and the other half of the time he seemed on the verge of tears at the prospect of the departure of his only daughter.

The whole of Athos closed down in celebration, preparing for a feast to which all were invited. Half of Hallan’s ducks were sacrificed to _siu ap_ while Charin spent nearly three days making enough _bau_ to fill the bellies of not only Athos town but Gennia town as well. Marhenno brought out not one but _four_ casks of his finest ale - as well as a dozen of the less-fine - and Torren dug out a forty year-old bottle of Osiran Red that was the last of the crate gifted to him at his wedding by his grandfather.

And in the midst of the whirlwind of congratulations, Teyla had a smile as broad as the Athos river and a laugh that rippled out like a wave on the sea. She fairly danced her way in and out of the adults who wished her well. She giggled and whispered among the girls who spoke enviously of the fine young men who lived in the central worlds, and smiled serenely at the boys who eyed her with regretful expressions.

“If you come back too good for us, I’ll have to thump you,” Ronon said candidly the morning she left, squatting in the mud down by the river.

Teyla laughed. “You have never yet managed to beat me,” she pointed out. “What makes you believe you’ll be able to then - even assuming I need thumping?”

“I’ll be bigger then,” he said, believing in the power of might over the power of cunning with all the arrogance of an adolescent boy. “Bigger than you.”

“Size is not everything,” said Teyla with airy unconcern. “As you will learn when you grow older, Ronon.”

He was maybe three years younger than her, but he understood well enough and his eyes narrowed. “So which of the guys should I beat up for teaching you that?”

She laughed and splashed him lightly. “You know I would not tell you that.”

They hugged hard, there by the riverbank, a private farewell between the girl who had always lived among family and the boy who had lost his when the Reavers destroyed his town.

Ronon remembered the warm affection of her embrace long after the crowds had gone home and the ship had cleared atmo and Teyla was gone from Pegasus.

 

\-- **anchor in storms** \--

It was nearly seven years before Teyla returned.

The letters came to town once a moon without fail. Sometimes in the elegant formal characters of the core worlds, sometimes in the phonetic scrawl of the common people, always handwritten on thick, fine paper, with the Academy letterhead.

She wrote little of her studies, more about the people she was with, the places she’d seen. And in every letter, Ronon could hear her longing to be home.

 _They wish me to stay on,_ she wrote in that last, seventh year, her characters scribed neatly down the parchment page. _I have been offered a position on Persephone as a government administrator. But I long for home and will return in time for the harvest this year._

“Harvest’s next week.”

“She flies in day after tomorrow.” Torren folded the now well-worn letter with a smile both wise and wistful as he looked over at Ronon, just back from a long hunting trip. “Although Athos will seem small after Sihnon and Londinium.”

Ronon shrugged, tucking his carvings into his pocket for the short walk home. He’d left the game bag at the abattoir and dropped by to see Torren and Charin before going home. “She’ll still be Teyla,” he said, pressing his lips to Charin’s forehead and clasping Torren about the wrist.

He couldn’t imagine Teyla snubbing her family.

“You’re like a child waiting for the _hong bao,_ this morning,” Melena said the day Teyla was due to arrive. Her eyes met his in the mirror where she was putting on her make-up.

He _felt_ like a child waiting for his New Year’s red and gold packet - itchy in his best clothing and restless.

“I haven’t seen her since we were children. It seems like years.”

“It _has_ been years. Ronon--”

He heard the concern in her voice.

“She’s still Teyla,” he said stubbornly. Nearly everyone else believed she’d come back a proper lady - like the ones that occasionally came through town and sneered behind their fine clothing and expensive makeup at the simply-dressed locals and their ‘quaint’ customs. Ronon knew better.

She’d still be Teyla.

“She’ll have changed in seven years,” said Melena as she finished pinning up her hair. “You’ve changed in seven years,” she said with a laugh that wasn’t entirely steady.

He wasn’t always the most insightful of men, but Ronon had a sudden flash, then. He planted his hands either side of her on the dresser so his face hovered over her shoulder in the mirror. “‘Lena...” Words failed him. He loved Melena - was crazy about her. In two months they’d formalise their commitment before a regional administrator and Ronon would be husband to the most intelligent and most beautiful woman in Athos town.

But Teyla was a part of his childhood - an anchor of who he’d been after the Reavers took everything else in his life. Whatever other storms had tossed his young life, Teyla - and Torren and Charin with her - had been there for him. He believed in that beyond all measure of rationality and logic, with the faith of the child he’d been and the yearning of the man he’d become for a child’s assurance.

There were no words to explain this, if Ronon had ever been a man for words.

He bent to kiss Melena, slow and deep.

 

 **\-- the prodigy returning --  
**

The crowds kept well back from the flattened and cleared landing area, obediently standing behind the posts marking the edge of the field. Every now and then the more daring children darted out onto the landing pad for a clearer view, shading their eyes against the morning’s bright sun and resisting their elders’ calls to come back in.

Ronon and Melena eased their way through the crowds to the railing area, and Melena promptly went to see Charin beneath the wide, billowing tent erected to keep her out of the sun.

“A lot of people here,” Ronon observed to Halling, looking at the folks jostling for elbow room on the railing. Athos town couldn’t boast half these people.

“It’s a big event,” said the older man wryly, tugging at his collar. “The prodigy returns.”

Torren seemed unusually tense, repeatedly shading his eyes against the sun and looking anxiously up into the sky. And when the fiery spark was sighted and a great cry went up, he clasped his hands before him so tightly his knuckles went white beneath ebony skin.

Slowly, the spark gained bulk and mass, but in angles and corners rather than the usual curves and billows of the cargo ships that landed in and near the city.

“That’s a new design,” Melena said at Ronon’s shoulder. “They must have done an upgrade.”

If so, Ronon thought it an ugly one. The ship landed with an ungraceful thump and the engines powered down. There was a collective holding of breath as the passenger ramp lowered, and then...

And then there was a woman framed in the doorway, small and trim, her hand held up against the sun, her eyes wide as she looked about her at the morass of people who’d come to see her return.

“Teyla?” Torren took one step then halted, as though uncertain of his welcome.

He needn’t have worried.

Teyla strode down the ramp, the coloured material of her long tunic billowing out behind her in gilt-thread profusion as she came home. “Father!”

She didn’t hesitate, flinging her arms around her father in a hard hug.

Her laughter held the echo of a sob and Ronon blinked a little, swallowing hard. Beside him, Melena pressed her cheek against his shoulder and sighed. And then they were borne forward, carried on a surge of people who clustered around the prodigy daughter, greeting, chattering, talking, exclaiming.

“So beautiful,” exclaimed one of the matrons, patting her on the cheek.

“I had nothing to do with that,” Teyla said, one corner of her mouth twitching.

“I bet you don’t remember me,” said one of the young men, brash and swaggering.

Her laughter rang out, amused as she touched foreheads. “How could I forget you, Jael?”

A tug at her shawl dragged her attention to a bold girl. “Are the core worlds nice?”

“They have a beauty all their own,” said Teyla, crouching down without thought for the silk of her hems and brushing a dark curl back from the child’s eyes. “But they are not like Pegasus.”

As she looked up, her gaze met Ronon’s and a fragment of a long-ago conversation surfaced in his mind. “Do I have to thump you?”

She smiled and pulled him into a hug, brief and fierce, and Ronon let himself return it in the moment before she stepped back. “I hope not. It is good to be home.”

And as Teyla continued around the group of people who clustered close, Ronon slid an arm around Melena’s waist, well-satisfied.

She was still Teyla.

 

 **\-- world below atmo --  
**

“Please consider this, Teyla.” Torren brought the matter up over dinner.

Teyla glanced up from her tuttleroot soup, the steam curling and swirling up from her bowl. “I have considered it, father.”

She spoke in tones of perfect calm, which only seemed to infuriate her father even more.

“Then reconsider it! You went to the Academy to be educated--”

“And so I have been educated,” she said, her voice flat and calm.

Beneath the table, Melena’s knee pressed lightly against Ronon’s thigh, as if he needed warning. This had been coming for the last week, ever since Teyla had returned home. And after she’d come home with the news of the sale this evening, Ronon wasn’t about to interrupt.

“Your talents should not be wasted here, in Athos town.”

“My talents will never go to waste. Not if I have life and will within me.” Her words were calm, but there was an edge to them, sharp as one of Ronon’s skinning knives.

“There is a world beyond Athos...”

“There are worlds beyond Pegasus, father. I have seen them - have lived on them, and I chose to return home.”

“Teyla--”

“Father. I choose to remain here. I am content.”

When Torren protested, his daughter fixed him with a fierce glare. “I am content, Father - let that be enough.”

A sharp look from Charin silenced Torren, and Melena turned the conversation to the news from the city.

Later, with his hands in soapsuds up to the elbow, Ronon asked the question that had been on his mind ever since her return. “Are the core worlds beyond that bad?”

“Have I said they were?”

It wasn’t what she said, but what she didn’t say that made him wonder. As though she knew of things happening beyond Athos town, beyond Pegasus, the motions of man and the cycles of politics. They’d taught her so many things in the Academy and yet she’d returned to them, almost the same.

Still, sometimes when she thought no-one else was looking, Ronon saw something pinch her face, like an old pain remembered. When the town kids came running back, yelling about ship-sparks in the sky, he saw her lift watchful eyes to the heavens, seeking something he couldn’t guess at. Sometimes in the midst of a crowd of people, she would retreat behind her eyes until someone else addressed her. Then she would come back, a near-invisible returning.

Teyla had come back the same in all the essentials. But something else had changed.

He could wait to find out, though.

Ronon was one of the town’s best hunters, bringing back delicacies of game that were highly-prized, both in Athos and in the neighbouring towns. He’d learned when to stalk and when to wait, how to be patient and how to draw a creature out from its cover.

This was just a different kind of hunt.

“Did you have people in mind?” He asked, swirling a wave of soapy water over the pan and setting it on the rack to drip dry. “Mechanics, engineers, security?”

She hesitated before answering. “A few.”

Ronon wiped down the bench and pulled the plug, then turned to look over at Teyla, leaning against the cupboards. “We’re a ways from the city - don’t usually see too many ships. You’re sure this ship repair station’ll be needed?”

Teyla met his gaze, steady, yet troubled. “Yes.”

 

 **\-- out of temptation --  
**

Ronon walked into the workshop and planted his hands down on the desk where Teyla was typing in the day’s records. “You’re going to the city, then?”

“I do not believe we have a choice. These representatives seem determined, and I am...one of the few with any diplomatic experience...”

In fact, she was the only one with anything near the experience appropriate for this. The only person who’d been taught and trained in the core worlds, who had the faintest hope of persuading these administrators that the people of Pegasus did not need a central government managing their lives and their living.

“I’m coming with.”

She looked up. “Ronon...” One hand reached out, rested on his fingers. “Melena would not want this--”

He yanked his hand away. “Doesn’t matter what she wants anymore, does it?”

Teyla’s sigh rustled through the empty workshop, a whisper of air amidst the heavy silence of spare parts and replacement engines. “Do you expect to be much help in the negotiations?”

“Don’t plan to be,” he said, ignoring her sharpness. “I’m going to protect you.”

Which was how they came to be standing in the city’s great hall, Teyla dressed in a small town’s worth of finery, Ronon shifting slightly in the archaic-style armour Melena had given him for their last wedding anniversary, modelled on an old, burned set found in the ruins of Sateda town.

But he wouldn’t think of Melena now.

Teyla greeted the ambassador by name, granting a gracious kiss to the dark cheek, framed elegantly in the collar of the white _cheong-saam_. “Tamara.”

“Teyla. I heard you’d returned home.” Tamara looked around at the hall, a marvel of engineering. “Planetary administrator?”

“Actually, I run a shop in my home town.”

Ronon fought back a grin as the elegant woman paused. “A shop?”

“In my home town,” qualified Teyla, her tones honey-sweet. “But we may speak of that later.”

The other woman shook herself out of her surprise. “Teyla. You know the alliance only wants the best for your people. You’ve lived on Londinium, visited Sihnon, Osiris, Persephone - you’ve seen what an integrated, educated parliament can do for civilisation. Surely you can bring them around to an understanding of what the alliance has to offer.”

“I know what the alliance has to offer,” Teyla said in a steady voice. “And I have handed out the information to the people in the towns and they will make the decision.”

Tamara looked astonished and her gaze slipped to Ronon. “ _They_ will make the decision?”

Ronon objected to being talked about as though he wasn’t there. But Teyla flashed him a glance as though to warn him against protest.

“Their lives will be most affected by the alliance.”

“But can they have any concept of what the alliance will offer them? Medical, social, transport, shipping, bureaucratic... Knowledge beyond anything they know. A future beyond...farming and...and ranching and... Teyla, _you_ should be the one making this decision for them.”

For the first time, Ronon saw Teyla hesitate. And felt an uncomfortable thought settle in his mind.

Teyla had come back the same, but she had come back different, too. Having known and seen more than anyone on Pegasus had known or seen, was it possible that she longed to control and manage more than just the repairs shop and the people there?

Teyla had been so insistent on placing herself out of the way, out of public sight. Now Ronon wondered if she’d been placing herself out of temptation’s path.

Still, her answer when it came was firm and clear. “That is not the way things are done here.”

 

\-- **dogs of war** \--

The workshop was crowded, a press of sweaty bodies and anxious voices. Rumour ran thick and swift among the Athosians, an uneasy news.

“Is it true, then?” Halling asked in a lull of sound. “The core worlds are attacking those who will not submit to their government?”

Faced turned to Teyla, who stood silent and grieving on the counter. “It is true. Verbena is at war, even now.”

“We should join with them!”

“Why join a fight that is not ours? Verbena is far from here...”

“It won’t stop at Verbena - it’s anyone who doesn’t want their unified government!”

“And how long can we hold out against them? The core worlds have resources and organisation, and we are many but separate.”

“You sound like the Genii,” said someone scornfully, “‘ _We cannot win, we must ally ourselves with the core worlds!_ ’”

Ronon stood by the counter as the arguments raged back and forth. He thought of Melena, dying slowly from the plague that refused to take him instead. He thought of the fine, fancy doctors who had finally condescended to see the outlying towns - too late to help her. He thought of that kind of prejudice - that kind of bigotry - running his world, dictating his choices, looking down on his people.

Better to fight and lose than submit tamely to _that_.

Above him, on the counter, Teyla was silent, her expression grim and troubled.

Abruptly, she lifted her hands to signal for quiet. Within moments, she had it, conversations breaking off to look at her - the daughter of Athos who best understood this war. “The choice to resist the core worlds or to align with them cannot be made as a planet, or even as the town,” she said into the hush. “You will make the choice to resist for you and you alone.”

Stunned silence lasted only a moment. Then the room burst into questions and protest, cries of shock and exclamations of surprise.

This was not the way things were done in Athos.

Ronon met Halling’s troubled gaze, turned to look at Teyla with a question in his eyes. But she stood with her hands clasped before her, the knuckles white. At that moment, she looked as Torren had the morning she returned: hope and dread mingled together.

The doors to the workshop burst open and uniformed men stormed in, their weapons up and loaded.

Panic and chaos ruled the workshop for a moment, before the Athosians realised the impossibility of fighting so many armed and trained soldiers. There were a few scuffles, but they were brief and brutally silenced. As the Athosians quietened, a man strode forward, wearing the patches of a captain.

“Teyla Emmagan?”

“I am she.”

“Under the Act of Acquisition as stated in the agreements of the Academy, you are hereby ordered to come with us.”

The Act of Acquisition? Agreements of the Academy? _Ordered?_

Ronon stepped in, looming over the man, forcing acknowledgement of his presence. “Where are you taking her?”

“She’ll be safe with us.” Contemptuous eyes swept the room and the rough assortment of Athosians standing there. “Safer than she will be here.”

“Ronon.” Teyla held out a hand, and he helped her down from the counter. “I have always known this was coming. Ever since Palatiel.” Her expression begged him to understand. “See that they remain safe. You must not put yourself in danger. At the Academy - when I reach it - I will send you a message to let you know I am well.” Her smile was pained. “Sateda will be nothing compared to...” She broke off and turned away, looking around the room as though to impress the sight of every man and woman in the room on her memory.

“Teyla--” Halling stopped as a soldier moved warningly.

“Halling. Look after them. If the customers can pay, then service their ship and do it with pride, no matter their allegiance.” She turned to the man who was watching her, respect and wariness in his expression. “I believe restraints will not be necessary, Captain.” she said and walked through the opened path with the dignity of a Companion.

The door closed behind them, but no-one moved to follow. Instead, they muttered beneath their breath and turned to each other for comfort.

“Do we follow?” Halling asked Ronon. The older man seemed slightly bewildered by the change of events, confused by how suddenly the world had turned about them.

“No. We get on with life.”

And so saying, Ronon strode from the workshop.

 

 **\-- choosing to resist --**

Sateda had been left as it was destroyed: rubble and dust. The torn bodies of its Reaver-wrecked people had been buried in a field that now sprouted gravestones amidst the weeds, but the town itself had been abandoned.

Ronon waited in the ruins until nightfall, trying not to think of the life he’d lived here, decades ago. He didn’t believe in ghosts, but the memories of that night - running, running, always running - still haunted him.

It was nearly moonrise when he heard the tread of footsteps coming down the road and cursed.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he snarled at Halling and the band of men and women whose travel-stained gear included the rough survival packs Ronon used when he went out hunting.

Halling wasn’t bothered by Ronon’s fury. “I remember the Palatiel code,” he said. “It has been many years, but I remember Teyla developing it. ‘ _See you at Sateda_ ,’ she said.”

“And what of Athos?”

“Athos needs no leader,” said Halling. “As Pegasus needs no core world telling it what it can and cannot do.” He shrugged as he indicated the others, lean, shadowy figures in the night. “We’ve made the choice to resist for ourselves. As you have.” His head lifted to the sky as a faint rumble echoed over the plains. “As she has.”

Teyla made no comment when she found nearly twenty people waiting for her, but welcomed them into the core-world ship.

“So where are we going first?” Ronon asked as she left several others looking through the ship, puzzling over the badly-designed systems, already planning fixes and maintainances, while Halling watched the progress with one eye and Teyla with another.

Her answer contained no uncertainty. “Verbena.”

Ronon never asked how she’d gotten free of the soldiers from the core worlds. He never asked what she’d done with the bodies. So far as he knew, none of the others asked, either.

And he never asked what the Academy had done to her to want her back.

Not when she found the coalition of the ‘Independent Colonies’ on Verbena without sending out so much as a single transmission. Not when she and the Athosians took to supply-running for the Independents through the blockades set up by the core worlds. Not when they slipped through the Alliance cordons again and again, with a prescience that made their ship welcome in any Independent camp.

“How does she do it?” Halling murmured to Ronon one night after dinner was served and the remnants cleaned up.

They’d just evaded a series of Alliance cruisers, skip-jumping behind planets and moons, cutting across asteroid belts and sailing far too close to a gas giant’s grav-field for the comfort of the crew.

Teyla always piloted these missions-on-the-run, although she had taught others how to fly the ship as well for the more staid legs of their journeys.

“They did something to her at that Academy.” It wasn’t a question in Ronon’s mind anymore.

“She always had an instinct for hide-and-seek and hunting,” said Halling softly. “Gave old Tobrel a run for his money, even as a child...” He eyed Ronon. “You think they honed that?”

Ronon hesitated before answering. “They wanted her back. They had some kind of Act to take her back - remember?” As though she was nothing more than a tool the Academy had loaned out and now wanted returned.

And her instincts - honed or not - had saved them more times than Ronon could count. There was _something_ there.

Next morning, Teyla called for an assembly in the cargo bay. They were halted for a rest at a rocky moon out past Greenleaf, and she rested her hip against the railing of the stairs as the crew settled themselves on boxes of medicines and food supplies and listened.

“I’ve called you here, because we have a choice,” she said. Her voice carried, quiet and clear through the unloading bay. “We have a full cargo in our holds and a heavy Alliance blockade ahead at Hera. We would not be faulted for not making it through the blockade, and could turn back, go home to Pegasus and Athos.”

“Run away,” muttered someone up the back.

“Yes,” said Teyla. “Or we could continue on to Hera and the Independent factions fighting there, deliver the supplies, weather what comes.”

Her inflections gave no hints on her preference, and the crew argued back and forth on the matter for nearly an hour. There were many who wanted to see home again - it had been nearly four years since they’d been back, with only fragmented news. The war allowed for little correspondance.

In the end, it came down to a ballot. The majority voted to stay on and run through the blockade to Hera.

“We’ve been in this war since Verbena,” said one of the older men, gruffly. “We’ll stick it out to the end.”

Ronon had voted to stay. It felt right.

“Our destination on Hera?” He asked Teyla as they walked to the ship’s bridge. Teyla’s gaze fixed on the stars that lay out the viewscreen window ahead of them, and the faint light made her fey.

“Serenity Valley.”

 

\-- **acts of peace** \--

The cells on the Alliance Cruiser weren’t comfortable, but it was better than the conditions they’d endured in Serenity Valley.

Two months of fighting the Alliance, every muscle aching, every breath a labour. Then defeat and the cold hard weight of failure. A week of waiting. Hunger. Sickeness. Recriminations. Madness.

Ronon had to admit, the Athosians survived better than some. Those that were left were tired and hungry, and one or two were fragile in health, but they were all sound in mind and relieved that it was over.

They’d fought and they’d lost. The Alliance would manage their lives, from birth to death. Ordered. Organised. Sanitized. Registered. A bitter pill to swallow, but one they’d learn to live with.

Slowly, the Independents were being allowed to go home. The Alliance didn’t want prisoners - it wanted citizens to pay its taxes and instruct on how to order their lives. Their names and details were recorded, their homeworlds noted down in a central database. Groups from other worlds had already been processed and were long since gone.

The Athosians - and the other Pegasus towns who’d aligned with the Independents - stayed.

“How’s Sela doing?” Ronon asked as Halling hunkered down beside him.

“Better. We traded a batch of penicillin for a protein block. Torin’s coming down with it, too. It shorts our rations but we’ll manage. Any news of Teyla?”

“Nothing.” It had been nearly a day since they’d taken her away. _For questioning_ , they said. _For safekeeping_ , Ronon figured, remembering ‘the Articles of the Academy’. He still wasn’t sure if they’d bring her back.

“Think she’s okay?”

Down the long corridor of the Alliance cruiser’s brig, footsteps echoed. Too early for dinner, and not a usual time for questioning. Ronon glanced at Halling. “Guess we’re gonna find out.”

They stood as the door slid open, revealing an Alliance officer - a major, if the tabs on his shoulder were any indication. “Ronon Dex and Halling Bento of Pegasus?”

“That’s us.”

Greenish eyes swept the room before he stepped aside and Teyla walked in.

She looked unharmed and unafraid, but there was relief in her eyes as she tallied their numbers. “Gather your things,” she said quietly. “We’re going home.”

The Alliance officer watched the corridor as they collected their things quietly and carried the sick. Ronon hoisted Sela in his arms, ignoring her protests, and followed Teyla and the officer through the lockup cells.

He noticed the guards turned away as they passed, as though they didn’t want to see what was happening. “Teyla?”

She glanced back but ignored his question, and Ronon caught the steady, measuring gaze of the Alliance officer for a moment, before the man turned away to look at her. “The transport codes will get you out of the Hera system as long as you reach the cordon in the next four hours. You should steer clear of the core worlds, of course.”

“Of course.” Her smile was faint and amused as they reached the docked ship - not the one they’d arrived in, but a 440 Bandolier, shabby and run-down by the look of its hull. It would crawl across the system if it would fly at all. Teyla turned at the door, gesturing them on. “Thank you, Major. And thank your commander.”

Ronon wanted to stay with her, but Sela needed to be set down and he wasn’t about to let her walk on her own feet through the unknown ship.

He didn’t have the chance to question Teyla for another four hours, too busy fixing the broken-down systems of the ship. The engines were worn and weary, life-support was nominal at best. They had basic supplies, but it would be a long, rough journey back to Pegasus.

It wasn’t until they were well out of the Hera system, limping home through the back ways and smugglers’ trails, that Ronon could leave the hold where the others had made their collective bunk, and seek Teyla.

She sat in the pilot’s chair, her eyes full of stars as she stared out the viewport. She didn’t look around as Ronon seated himself in one of the navigation seats.

He wanted to ask about the Academy, about the Alliance officer and his commander, about so many things that had niggled and gnawed at him over the last five years. But that was the past, and over and done.

Time to look to the future.

“Will they come after you again?”

The pale light of the distant stars glowed softly against her features. “I do not think they will,” she said at last. “The Act of Acquisition is only valid in a time of war. And I am not so valuable to the Academy - merely a precursor...” Her voice trailed off, and Ronon heard an odd helplessness in it that clutched at his gut. “I believe they will soon have...others...to occupy their interests.”

He could have asked, but she didn’t want him to.

After a moment, he held out his hand; after another, she gripped it, her fingers cool and strong in his, an anchor in his life as she had always been.

“We are going home, Ronon. That is enough for now.”

 

 **\-- the answer, yes --  
**

Back on Pegasus, life settled down to a routine.

The workshop had done well for itself in their absence. While Pegasus was not a core world, it was along one of the major trading routes through the system, and more than a few ships had come through Athos looking for the bits and pieces to keep themselves out in the black.

Since the war, more than a few had stopped on the way through, picking up various members of Athos or the neighbouring towns who didn’t wish to live under the Alliance. More than a few of the crew from the war picked up and left - either for the black or for other planets further out where the Alliance would be slow to reach.

Ronon watched them go and wished them luck. He wouldn’t have minded skipping out himself, but something in him said ‘Stay.’

And Teyla was staying. That was reason enough for Ronon.

Nearly two months after the battle of Serenity Valley, on a golden spring morning, Halling came into the workshop with news of the city. “The new governor arrived this morning on an Alliance cruiser complete with military escort down to the surface. Word is, she’s brought her own Alliance detachment.”

“She?” Ronon arched a brow.

Teyla rested her elbows on the benchtop, sitting her chin in her hand. “I imagine they have brought their own technicians for the Alliance detachment?”

“If not, we might be in the market,” Halling pointed out, hanging up his greatcoat before pulling out the box of jobs to be done that day.

“And if so, then we’re not.” Ronon bit back a grin as Halling gave him a steady, frowning look. “We’re not,” he said mildly when Teyla narrowed her eyes at him.

“We will still be more than capable of handling the non-Alliance ships that come through here,” she said, gently nudging Halling out of the way so she could look through the job box and pick out the things that needed to be done. “Assuming that we do not stand around here all morning, jabber-jawing.”

She presented them each with a sheet and a sweetly malicious smile and the conversation was ended.

Ronon’s task today was to look over the 440 Bandolier in which the Independent soldiers had returned to Pegasus and see if any of the parts could be fixed up and used as spares. Before the sun had cleared the treetops, he had a half-dozen helpers from town, and by midday, he had most of the kids and adolescents watching the destruction - if not trying to wheedle him into letting them help.

“I hope we don’t have to pay them all,” Halling observed wryly when he brought the water keg at midmorning. His son was tugging on his arm, trying to persuade him to come around, but something beyond Jinto made him still and stiffen.

Ronon turned and tensed.

A man in an Alliance uniform, unbuttoned at the collar, was standing at the edge of the yard, watching the mayhem with a tilted head and amused green eyes, a clipboard resting on his hip as he met Ronon and Halling’s gazes with the same steady gaze that had swept them in the cells of the Alliance cruiser.

One by one, the Athosians turned to look at the stranger in their midst, and he met their gazes with a light, pleasant expression. “Hey, I’m looking for Teyla Emmagan.”

“Why?”

“The Ambassador in the city would like to meet her.”

“Why?”

The wide mouth drew out in a smirk as the eyes flattened in a not-quite-friendly smile. “That would be between the Ambassador and Ms. Emmagan.”

“Do you have a formal request for audience?”

There was a titter as the Alliance man whirled around, startled by Teyla’s appearance on the path behind him. “Uh, hi. Yes.” He pulled it from the clipboard - a formally engraved invitation, not a reprogrammable flimsy - and presented it with a flourish. “For you.”

“Thank you, Major.”

“Hey, you’re welcome.” Ronon saw the way the man’s eyes lingered on her, as though none of the Athosians existed but her.

Teyla looked up from her scrutiny of the letter. “Can it wait until after dinner?”

The major tilted his head. “Is that an invitation?”

She lifted the envelope and paper with a smile about her lips. “This is.” Her eyes flickered up to look him over. “Yes,” she said. “It is.”

“Then the answer is yes, it can wait until after dinner.”

And after a meal during which the Athosians watched John Sheppard like hawks eyeing off a sheep, and Sheppard ignored them all, Ronon helped wipe up the dishes Teyla washed with the stranger lending an unexpected hand and heard Teyla say, “Yes.”

“Sorry?” John Sheppard frowned.

“You waited until after dinner for your answer to the invitation. The answer is yes.”

He smiled, a brief twist of lips, like a man not sure whether to laugh at himself or shake his head in dismay. “I’ll let the ambassador know.”

 

\-- **a city arising --  
**

There were a lot more uniforms in the city this time around. Men and women - mostly men - who stood around with apparently little better to do than lord it over the general populace.

It made Ronon glad he’d brought his weapons, even if Teyla had given him a long, hard look when he turned up at the transport shuttle wearing them.

“A strong military presence,” Halling muttered beneath his breath as he tugged at the collar of his shirt while peering out the shuttle window.

“Clearly, they think we’re dangerous.” Ronon grinned at Halling, shrugged innocently at Teyla when she arched a brow at him. “And your wife will kill you if you rip that shirt,” he added to Halling.

“She made it too tight.”

“I do not believe the troops will be long-term,” Teyla said as they passed a series of food vendors strung with red and gold streamers. “An initial strong presence would be considered necessary for a few months. I imagine they will be gone by New Year.” She regarded Halling, ignoring the view outside the window for the moment. “Your collar will not be long-term either.”

“Good to know,” Halling muttered as the shuttle soared over an avenue of trees, and settled down on the shuttlepad of a parklike estate with a fancy, formal-looking house. “Threats, intimidation, or assassination?”

“I believe that the process of formally inviting me to this meeting is a little extensive if the Alliance had assassination in mind,” Teyla observed as waiting servants stepped forward to pull open the shuttle door.

“And what about the Acts of Acquisition?”

Ronon managed not to quail beneath the slow, flat look Teyla gave him as the noises of the garden and restive people waiting spread through the shuttle. “There are many different ways to acquire something. Not all of them require force.”

Which, to Ronon’s mind, said enough about what they were doing here - as well as put him on notice that this was just as political as the meeting she’d had with the first Alliance representative in the city, back before the war.

His impression of the estate was of green, well-manicured gardens that probably cost more in a week’s upkeep than the entire population of Athos could earn in a month. The house was impressive, elegant, and well-secured, with guards at every corner and checkpoints at every door.

In the formal entryway, Major Sheppard was just emerging from a side door. This time, his uniform collar was buttoned and he looked fresh-shaved. Ronon eyed him; he _smelled_ fresh-shaved.

“Hey.” The greenish eyes immediately flew to Teyla, fixing on her face with what seemed like a genuine smile. “Ms. Emmagan.”

“Major.” Teyla inclined her head. “Is the ambassador ready to see us?”

“If you’ll follow me, I’ll show you in.” He indicated the direction and they moved off through the room. Ronon noted the man kept just alongside her, rather than leading the way, and wondered whether that was a professional nicety of the man, or a personal inclination. “You didn’t have any trouble getting into the city?”

“Not with the shuttle that was sent for us,” said Teyla, mildly, but with a hint of laughter in her voice as they turned into a corridor where the wall screens had been pushed back to show the profusely growing gardens in the bright spring morning.

The room into which they were shown - a formal reception room - was similarly open to the gardens, and cast a glowing, vivid light onto everything in the room, including the Ambassador and the military man who stood behind her.

Teyla stepped in, past Sheppard. “Ambassador Weir.”

The woman rose from her chair, fine, stiff silk skirts rustling around her. “Ms. Emmagan, thank you for coming. Please, have a seat.”

“Thank you for inviting me.”

Teyla took a seat, and the ambassador followed a moment later, signalling to someone by the door.

By some kind of silent agreement, nothing was discussed until the tea was served and poured out. Small talk was made - the weather, the estate, the current political situation back on Sihnon in the wake of the war. And by the time Teyla had refused the tiny _tzin dui_ that came with the tea, the topic had wound its way back to Pegasus and the Alliance’s plans for it.

“Among the directives I was given regarding Pegasus, is the development of peace between the government and the local population,” Ambassador Weir admitted, and when Teyla’s eyes flickered to the hard-faced commander who stood at her shoulder, watching them all with eyes like ice-blue chips, she smiled. “Colonel Sumner and his troops are only here for the initial settling-in period of the government. Once our situation is stabilised, the majority of the military will be returning to other planets, with only a small core security force.”

“Ah.” Teyla seemed relaxed as she placed her teacup back and folded her hands in her lap. “Is it the Alliance’s intent to sue for peace, having already made their war?”

Green eyes gleamed with amusement. “If you want to put it like that, yes. I think that you and I both know that Pegasus is a valuable planet in the system, populous and productive and key in the trade routes that run out to some of the border sectors.”

“Most of Pegasus fought against Unification. They are unlikely to take well to Alliance governance.”

“And the Alliance is unlikely to take well to rebellion and revolt,” said Colonel Sumner flatly.

“What about dissent and disagreement?” Ronon asked.

Weir shot a brief, flashing look at her bulldog before she turned back. “We have no issue with dissent and disagreement - both are expected and a healthy sign of democracy at work.”

“And yet the respect for democratic outcomes were sadly missing when the core worlds went to war,” said Halling mildly.

Teyla shifted in her seat and spoke before Weir or the Colonel could take insult at the remark. “I take it that you have plans for easing the transitory phase into Alliance governance that would be assisted by my endorsement.”

“I was given your name as a possible ally on the planet.”

Standing behind Teyla’s chair, Ronon couldn’t see her expression, but he could see the expression on Sumner’s and Sheppard’s faces. Sumner looked like he wouldn’t trust the Athosian delegation any further than he could throw them. Sheppard looked...neutral. Carefully so.

“The Alliance would have my name down as having fought for the Independents in the war.”

“The war is over,” said Weir with a touch of sharpness. “Why continue to fight a rearguard action?”

“Is that what I seem to be doing?”

Across from Teyla, the ambassador’s eyes narrowed. “Is this a test?” Whatever she saw on Teyla’s face both relieved and exasperated her. “I suppose I can’t fault you for wanting to be sure of us. Are you satisifed?”

“I am content to sue for peace,” came Teyla’s answer. “And I am willing to assist the government in dealing with Pegasus towns and peoples - within reason. I will _not_ be a figurehead for the government, and I will _not_ be its mouthpiece to the Pegasus population. But I am willing to do what can be done to help in this phase of transition. Will that be enough?”

The question hung in the spring morning, underpinned by the lazy buzz of insects and the chirp of birds in the trees outside. Somewhere distant on the estate, a lawn-cutter hummed.

Then the ambassador smiled. “That’s enough.”

 

 **\-- to the winners --  
**

“Do you think they’ll keep their word?”

Teyla glanced up from the fence on which she perched, staring down at the town in the valley. Overhead, the blue arch of sky was coming out in faint twinkling stars. “The ambassador believes what she says. She believes in the peace of the Alliance, whatever its faults. Colonel Sumner...is less trusting.”

“Sheppard seems to think he’ll be left to head the troops left in Atlantis,” Ronon said, using the city’s new name. “You going to invite him around to dinner again?”

She turned to arch a brow at him. “I do not think you are his type, Ronon.”

He guffawed, loud in the still evening. “Maybe I could change his mind!”

“You would have to change your own at the same time.” Teyla smiled back, clearly amused at the thought. “He might come. To dinner, I mean,” she said severely as Ronon guffawed again.

“If you asked him, he would.”

It was hard to see in the dusk light, but she might have blushed. Ronon smirked to himself. “We shall see,” she prevaricated. “We have a planet to reconcile to the Alliance.”

“Now who’s trying to change their own mind at the same time?”

“We do what we must. If that means making peace with the Alliance, then so be it. History belongs to the winners.” She stood and surveyed the small figure hiking enthusiastically up the path towards them. “And now, I think, we have Jinto coming to tell us of dinner.”

Ronon poked her in the ribs with a grin. “Race you down.”

Teyla beat him to the bottom, but only because he stopped to sweep Jinto up along the way, and they jogged down into the town beneath the sparkling stars, out of breath, but happy in the warm light of home.


End file.
